September 30
WEE HOURS
In the wee hours I hear the high pitched wail, the tiny pest whining in my ear, the onset of my thin stretched nerves reaching their end. A few more hours are required of me tonight. I rally my spirit and lift the edges of my willing resolve. Long slow nights carry me to the far corners of my mind. I am more average than I had imagined or hoped for. The commonness of four AM brings the base to disclosure, the charmed exposure of predawn wakefulness. The fuzzy vibrations in my brain make me feel deep and real, vulnerable to all the normal limitations of nature and caprice. The sun will rise, ending this night. My sentry over, I will fall to earth, and rest, and bed.
Change everything, change yourself.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Death Practice
September 29
DEATH PRACTICE
“Why do you practice death like it were a skill? Do you fear you lack ability? Or, because it’s your goal, have you made it your hobby?”
Beleaguered by the questions of my sponsor I search quickly for some believable response. “I confused calm with death and thought I was practicing the former…..Death came for a holiday, how could I refuse it?…..It’s a test drive, if I like it I can keep it.” My sponsor doesn’t think I’m funny.
“Check your motives, wants and desires. Make sure death is what you really want, that it’s not just your fallback position because you fear life. Don’t get me wrong, I hope death is a good thing, but why try to chew tomorrow’s food when your plate is full of today?
Ride change.
DEATH PRACTICE
“Why do you practice death like it were a skill? Do you fear you lack ability? Or, because it’s your goal, have you made it your hobby?”
Beleaguered by the questions of my sponsor I search quickly for some believable response. “I confused calm with death and thought I was practicing the former…..Death came for a holiday, how could I refuse it?…..It’s a test drive, if I like it I can keep it.” My sponsor doesn’t think I’m funny.
“Check your motives, wants and desires. Make sure death is what you really want, that it’s not just your fallback position because you fear life. Don’t get me wrong, I hope death is a good thing, but why try to chew tomorrow’s food when your plate is full of today?
Ride change.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Lineage
September 28
LINEAGE
People stand in the cue and I stare, lost in contemplation and compliance. I weigh the conflicts and complications. Is this the method to clear identification? I think I am better known for the lines I’ve crossed, the times I press between warm souls and force myself to the area beyond. How can I wait my turn for generational stew when the fruit trees bear life for those who break free from ruts and rumbles to bite deeply the flesh of the future? I can’t stand here though I love so many in this line, I cannot love the line itself. I must step through, breathe, stretch my legs and mind, take leave of grids and locks, to live a lonelier but healthier life, all caused by a change in direction.
Enjoy change like flowers before the fruit.
LINEAGE
People stand in the cue and I stare, lost in contemplation and compliance. I weigh the conflicts and complications. Is this the method to clear identification? I think I am better known for the lines I’ve crossed, the times I press between warm souls and force myself to the area beyond. How can I wait my turn for generational stew when the fruit trees bear life for those who break free from ruts and rumbles to bite deeply the flesh of the future? I can’t stand here though I love so many in this line, I cannot love the line itself. I must step through, breathe, stretch my legs and mind, take leave of grids and locks, to live a lonelier but healthier life, all caused by a change in direction.
Enjoy change like flowers before the fruit.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Pirouettes
September 27
PIROUETTES
I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go. I am erect, proud of my self-possession. I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity. Sobriety has made a dancer out of me. I sprint the stage and take my place. I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography. I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me. I can let it all pass. To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.
Let your work speak.
PIROUETTES
I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go. I am erect, proud of my self-possession. I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity. Sobriety has made a dancer out of me. I sprint the stage and take my place. I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography. I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me. I can let it all pass. To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.
Let your work speak.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Screaming Lethargy
September 26
SCREAMING LETHARGY
The screaming lethargy of being alive after many years of wanting something else, the exhaustion of pulsing, breathing, waves and waves of thinking. Yet as tired as I am, I am. Here without a doubt, I stand. No crawling for I have not fallen, no climbing for I have reached the plain. I wait for the rain to wash over me, the truth to run through me, time to pass by me. As if on a free trip to an unwelcome destination I arrive with randomly packed bags and low expectations. I’m here now. The train doesn’t seem to be moving on. I might as well leave the station, nothing to do on the platform. There may be points of interest or flowers to be smelled. I step haltingly and fear making any connection to this unbidden place. My name is unknown; I befriend the lamppost, the birds, the street. I am tired of travel, fearful of arrival. Fury courses through my veins but the weather is pleasant, I might take off my coat and stay.
SCREAMING LETHARGY
The screaming lethargy of being alive after many years of wanting something else, the exhaustion of pulsing, breathing, waves and waves of thinking. Yet as tired as I am, I am. Here without a doubt, I stand. No crawling for I have not fallen, no climbing for I have reached the plain. I wait for the rain to wash over me, the truth to run through me, time to pass by me. As if on a free trip to an unwelcome destination I arrive with randomly packed bags and low expectations. I’m here now. The train doesn’t seem to be moving on. I might as well leave the station, nothing to do on the platform. There may be points of interest or flowers to be smelled. I step haltingly and fear making any connection to this unbidden place. My name is unknown; I befriend the lamppost, the birds, the street. I am tired of travel, fearful of arrival. Fury courses through my veins but the weather is pleasant, I might take off my coat and stay.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Optical Illusions
September 25
OPTICAL ILLUSIONS
“Like my new frames?” I ask my sponsor.
“Who wrote your prescription?”
“Oh, the lenses aren’t new, just the frames,” I reply.
“You want to be seen differently but you want to see things the same old way. My question still stands. Who wrote you the script for those funhouse glasses you have used all your life? Did it ever occur to you the distortion is ground into the glass? Remember, some people need you to see things as other than what they are. Unhappy families look great if you can’t see them too clearly. It’s hard to know what to say to keep the peace, said Grandma. She never took off her specs to see there was no peace to keep. So, I will ask you again. The view of the world you base your choices on, who chose the color you see it through?”
Breathe to improve your mind and mood.
OPTICAL ILLUSIONS
“Like my new frames?” I ask my sponsor.
“Who wrote your prescription?”
“Oh, the lenses aren’t new, just the frames,” I reply.
“You want to be seen differently but you want to see things the same old way. My question still stands. Who wrote you the script for those funhouse glasses you have used all your life? Did it ever occur to you the distortion is ground into the glass? Remember, some people need you to see things as other than what they are. Unhappy families look great if you can’t see them too clearly. It’s hard to know what to say to keep the peace, said Grandma. She never took off her specs to see there was no peace to keep. So, I will ask you again. The view of the world you base your choices on, who chose the color you see it through?”
Breathe to improve your mind and mood.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Works
September 24
WORKS
I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart. I explode with the fireworks required for anger to set living boundaries. I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dreamworks allowing mental maintenance to occur. Slipping into my political face I make time for public works. I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order ‘the works.’ Have it delivered so I can face the mountain of homework waiting for me and bearing my name.
Suggest solutions in your diary.
WORKS
I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart. I explode with the fireworks required for anger to set living boundaries. I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dreamworks allowing mental maintenance to occur. Slipping into my political face I make time for public works. I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order ‘the works.’ Have it delivered so I can face the mountain of homework waiting for me and bearing my name.
Suggest solutions in your diary.
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